


Start a Riot

by jakkusstoryteller



Category: Mafia (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Everyone is blaming themselves and each other, F/M, Kidnapping, Lincoln almost loses the Reader, Revenge, Romance, Torture, Violence, was a little too late to save her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakkusstoryteller/pseuds/jakkusstoryteller
Summary: I will burn this city down for a diamond in the dust. I will keep you safe and sound when there's no one left to trust.





	

Lincoln Clay stood less than two feet from you. Your arm was being stitched up— a long, slow process because the bastards who'd kidnapped you had carved into your skin so deeply. You didn’t make a sound as Father James worked on you. You actually hadn’t spoken at all since you’d opened your eyes. The intensity of your gaze seemed dulled, missing the normal sparkle that Lincoln loved so much.

Too much pain. Too much fear.

A bandage was on your cheek. Father James had said the wound wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. Your shoulder (the sons of bitches had thrown you down to the ground so hard that your shoulder had dislocated) had been reset— popped back into the joint in a fast, brutal move that had made him swear and quake with rage.

Even then you continued to keep silent. Lincoln wanted to take all of your pain away. Wanted to do what Burke had suggested and simply kill Sal Marcano in the comfort of his home. His hands clenched into fists. _'I'll kill them. Every single one of those fucking sick bastards. I'll kill them, I'll kill them, kill all of them and burn this goddamn city to the ground.'_

“I want you to stay here tonight,” Father James said. There were bags under his eyes and his mouth was tight with righteous anger at what had been done to you. And why not? Father James had known you since you were just a girl. A skinny little thing who always came to church and hung onto his every word. But you were no longer that child. You had stopped heeding his advice from the moment you became Lincoln Clay's Girl.

“You have a concussion, and I need to monitor you for—” You whimper and shake your head. “I can’t stay here.” There was fear in your voice, a tension that pulled at Lincoln and made him almost reach out to calm you. He wouldn’t have you afraid. “I can't stay here. They'll come back and hurt me— I have to get out.” “Shhh.”— Father's James's voice was firm but Lincoln could see the compassion in his eyes—“ you need someone to watch you. I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. With a concussion, you—”

Your gaze rose and finally, _finally,_ you looked up at Lincoln. “Will you stay with me? Please? I don't want to be alone.” That soft confession almost broke him. _Almost._

“Yes.” He hadn’t been able to let you out of his sight ever since he and Cassandra's boys had found you tied up in that rundown shack deep in the bayou, bleeding out on the filthy floor. Sick fear still twisted Lincoln's guts, and he wasn’t sure if the tight knot would ever go away. He had been so close to losing you...so close to losing the one person who kept him going...

“I’ll have Lincoln watching me,” you said, your voice a strained whisper. “What more  do I need? I want him here with me. Please, Father.” Father James frowned and turned his disapproving gaze to Lincoln. “She’s in bad shape, so when I say watched, I mean I want you in the same room with her at all times. If her pain gets worse, if her speech starts to slur, you let me know. Understood, Lincoln?”

Lincoln nodded, eyes shifting away from the look of blame and disappointment on James's face. _I warned you,_ those eyes said. _I warned you that something like this would happen and you didn't listen._   _Your fault. Your fault..._

His fault. 

"Yes, Father." Satisfied, Father James exhaled as he began putting away his medical supplies. “I’ll go and get some more bandages from the store, but I don’t like leaving you two here alone.”

“Thank you, Father.” your voice was hoarse. It was killing Lincoln to hear you like this. You were lying in Father James's guest bed and wearing a thin slip that reached to your knees. Your ripped, bloody clothes were beyond ruined and had to be thrown away. Cassandra and her guys were probably still searching for the men who did this, and Lincoln hoped they would find them and leave them alive. He wanted the pleasure of hurting them and making them beg. 

But as much as he wanted to join that hunt, his priorities had shifted.

To you.

“Donovan's going be bringing you some fresh clothes,” Lincoln murmured as Father James slipped from the room. You weren't looking at him anymore. You were staring straight up at the ceiling. He edged closer to you. Took your hand. You flinched. “Baby, it’s all right. Those pieces of shits aren't going to find you here.”

You laughed. He’d never heard such a sad sound come from you. “They said that they were going to have some fun with me. Told me they would make it long and slow.”

Your tongue slid over your cracked lips. “They said…” Your words trailed away. Lincoln's fingers tightened around yours. “I don’t give a shit what they said. I'll kill them before I let them hurt you again.”

Your gaze slowly drifted to him. There were tears in your eyes. Something broke inside of him. “They hurt me.” Lincoln's swallowed hard. Images of you tied up and laying lifeless on the floor with your clothes ripped and at least a dozen cuts littering your body flashed through his mind. “They took turns cutting me. Laughing and making a game out of it. Wanted to hear how loud I could scream.” Your breath rushed out. “They were going to hang me up like a pig. Wanted to carve me up.”

The drumming of his heartbeat echoed in his ears. “Baby, slow down. You need to rest. Stop talking like that.” “I should have been careful…” you swallowed. The small sound was painful to hear. “This is all my fault. I should have—” A tear tracked down your cheek.

“I shouldn't have lowered my guard.” “It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known—” Your hand twisted in his. Broken nails sinking into his skin. “It was my fault. I'm so sorry, Lincoln. I'm sorry…” Lincoln pressed a shushing finger against your lips. Carefully, he climbed onto the narrow bed and positioned his large body around yours.

“Goddamn it, stop blaming yourself. We'll get through this—” Your body was tense and hard against his. “How? Sal Marcano has half the city in his pocket and knew enough about me to know when I was going to be alone. He knew…” Lincoln's jaw clenched. "We'll get through this," he whispered in your hair. You sniffle and curl up into him. The comforting smell of cigarette smoke and blood washing over you. Lulling you until into a deep sleep, blissfully unaware of the world outside.

_We'll get through this._

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Being the girlfriend of an aspiring mobster is dangerous and Sal Marcano pulls no punches when it comes to hurting the people Lincoln loves.
> 
> Father James is great and all, but he needs to stop. Lincoln Clay was forced to watch his family get brutally murdered and you expect him not to do anything? Not everything can be handled peacefully. Stop being so self-righteous and get off your high horse. 
> 
> Lincoln's biggest fear is losing the woman he loves and that might just happened if the two aren't careful.


End file.
